


under siege

by eijanaika



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Office Sex, Rough Sex, [homer simpson voice]: stupid sexy haikus, a smattering of swordplay, rhys being a needy lil weirdo, zer0 being 100 percent done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 10:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20704727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eijanaika/pseuds/eijanaika
Summary: “So go shoot something—Maliwan, preferably. Always works for me.”Rhys makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Shit, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you. I’ve even missed your haikus. Hey, here’s one for you: fuck me, or I’m going to go stress-crazy and explode. Literally!”“Too many syllables.”





	under siege

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers for BL3 past what they've shown in the promos. 
> 
> Please enjoy my attempt at sexy, improperly formatted haikus.

“Got your call. What’s wrong?”

Zer0’s voice cuts through the office silence, causing Rhys to nearly jump out of his skin. Five years working together, and he’s still not used to the way the assassin can seemingly just appear out of thin air whenever it suits him. Still, Rhys’ nerves give way to a giddy excitement as soon as he sees him, immaculate and expressionless in the doorway, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Awaiting his command. 

“Zer0, buddy, thank god you came.” Rhys bounds up from his desk, almost tripping over his own feet in his rush to greet him. How long has it been since they’ve last seen each other? Weeks? It feels like forever.

“Good to see you too. Who do you need me to ki—”

It’s not often that Rhys manages to catch his assassin off guard. This time, all it takes is him throwing his arms around Zer0’s shoulders, burying his face into his armored neck. Up close, he smells like copper and burnt plastic, and it’s enough to make Rhys dizzy. He closes his eyes and drinks it in, imagining the emoticons Zer0 is currently projecting; a neon-red smiley face, or perhaps (hopefully) a heart.

“Ah. Seriously?” Okay, scratch that last part. Zer0 makes no move to acknowledge him, even though he’s practically drooling on his neck already, his hands remaining firmly down by his sides. “I’ve been so very deceived. It sounded urgent.”

“It is urgent.” There’s a whine in his voice that’s completely unfitting for the CEO of a multi-billion dollar weapons manufacturer, but he’s been dreaming about exactly this for _weeks_ now. He’s allowed to be little desperate. “Promethea’s under siege, I’m _this close_ to being murdered by a trust-fund psychopath, and I haven’t had a cup of coffee in weeks. Doesn’t get more urgent than that.”

“So go shoot something—Maliwan, preferably. Always works for me.”

Rhys makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Shit, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you. I’ve even missed your haikus. Hey, here’s one for you: fuck me, or I’m going to go stress-crazy and explode. Literally!”

“Too many syllables.”

“Oh my god, please. I’m begging you. This is my last request. Don’t let me die sexually frustrated.” 

“I won’t let you die,” monotones Zer0, which is very sweet, yes, and more than a little comforting; just not in the way Rhys needs right now. Time to switch strategies.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, you know.” He lowers his voice, hands dropping to Zer0’s waist. “About that one time, me and you, behind the diner down the street.” Specifically the weight of the alley wall against his back, Zer0’s forearm braced against his chest, holding him still as his hand dipped beneath his waistband, voice measured even as Rhys bucked into the blessed heat of his fist. Good times.

(Never mind that that particular hook-up ended with a very inconsiderately-timed Maliwan ambush; and if the sight of five heavily-armed assholes jumping them didn’t kill the mood, Zer0 spilling their guts all over Rhys’ shoes _definitely_ did. Hey, it happens. Now that they’re doing this in the safety of his office, things should go a lot smoother).

“Is that dirty talk? Your attempt at seduction? It’s not your strong suit.” Unfortunately, Zer0 doesn’t seem to remember that near-death experience as fondly as he does. He sounds like he’s talking to the old Rhys; the terrified, stuttering nerd ready to faint at the sight of a dead body. Usually, that would annoy the hell out of him, but in his current state he can’t help but find it stupidly arousing. He’s half-hard from Zer0’s voice alone, and he crashes their bodies together, rutting against Zer0’s thigh until he’s sure he can feel it too.

“God, you’re so hot. You even made disemboweling those Maliwan assassins look sexy. How is that possible?” He’s babbling now, more than a little desperate, and he could almost cry with relief when Zer0 very kindly decides to shut him up. Before he can blink, Zer0 has him by the collar, whirling him around and shoving him forward until his chest is flat against the desk. The momentum is just hard enough to knock the air out of him, and he squirms breathlessly, four fingers pinching the back of his neck, pinning him with ease. 

This is probably supposed to be terrifying. He should be begging for his life, instead of grinding back against Zer0 as hard as he can, even after he hears the cold screech of digi-structed steel, feels the tip of Zer0’s sword balancing delicately against the back of his neck, threatening to press down.

“This what you’re into?” Zer0’s voice is as impassive as ever. “Want to be fucked at sword point by your assassin?” 

“Uhhh, yeah? One hundred percent. What, am I not making it obvious enough?”

“I have decided I do not understand you. Why are you like this?” Rhys shivers as the blade trails gently down his spine, counting the vertebrae before coming to rest on the small of his back. “It does not matter. Now take your clothes off, or else I’ll cut them off you.”

As dizzyingly hot as it would be to make Zer0 literally tears his clothes off, he _is_ at work. Best to save that particular fantasy for another time. He scrambles to undo his belt, yanking his pants and underwear down to his ankles in one fluid motion, practically overflowing with excitement. He’s almost disappointed to hear Zer0 re-sheathing his sword, but his mood brightens when he feels fingers against the cleft of his ass, spreading him open.

“Hold up, I’ve got something for this.” Stretching across the desk, Rhys reaches down and rummages around in the top drawer, fingers closing around the half-empty bottle of lube hidden there. He tosses it back over his shoulder and Zer0 catches it easily, a question mark flashing across his visor. 

“Slut,” he accuses, but he’s quick to spread the lube over his fingers and swarm in close until the cool material of his armor is pressed against the back of Rhys’ thighs. He shoves one slicked finger into him without warning. The burn is none-too-gentle, but Rhys is too far gone to care. He tilts his hips, pushing back greedily on Zer0’s finger, groaning in frustration when he refuses to speed things up.

Turning his head, Rhys stares up into the black void of Zer0’s visor—about where his eyes should be, assuming he _has_ eyes—a challenge in his voice. “So, you finally gonna show me what you’ve got beneath all that armor?”

“You don’t deserve it.” The provocation pays off, and Zer0 adds another finger, curling it deep inside him. There’s still no effort to make it good; Zer0 remaining all-too-happy to keep him strung out and desperate for _more,_ whatever that is, his cock dripping steadily against the desk. “Identity is not cheap, unlike someone here.” 

“Woah, hey there. Cheap? How many corporate wars have _you_ financed?” Typical vault hunter, thinking money just falls from the damn sky. “C’mon, at least gimme a hint. Alien-dick? Robo-vagina? Egg-laying tentacles? Or are you smooth as a doll down there?”

“Very descriptive. Maybe focus on the war instead of my junk.”

“You’d be surprised how boring wars are most of the time.” Rhys reaches back to grab Zer0’s wrist, running his thumb across the grooves in his armor. “And right now, _this_ is boring. C’mon. Let me touch you. Whatever you’ve got, I’m into it. Unless it’s, like, a tiny sword or something.”

Zer0 answers the question by swatting Rhys’ hand away and twisting it up behind his back, applying just enough pressure to make his eyes water. “Boring? That’s too bad. Now keep your hands to yourself or lose them for good.”

There’s an edge to his voice that has Rhys snapping to attention, wrapping his hands around the edge of the desk as soon as Zer0 loosens his grip. 

“Good boy,” murmurs Zer0, and then there’s a third finger inside him and _holy fuck yes_ it’s pressing over and over against the spot that has him gasping and writhing on the desk, sending papers flying to the floor around them. Whatever, he’ll make copies. Right now, he’s too focused on the growing friction to care about anything else, his cock rubbing back and forth against the desk as Zer0 fucks him. It’s good, but not nearly enough to get him off; not when he’s this tightly wound. Fuck, he really needs to come. 

Forgetting Zer0’s warning, he worms a hand underneath his stomach to touch himself, only to be swiftly wrenched backwards by the hair. 

“Ow, ow, stop. Don’t mess up the hair.”

“Then _listen._”

“Okay, okay. I am.” Reluctantly, Rhys slides his hand back above his head and the pressure on his hair dissipates. Biting his lip, he stares wide-eyed up at Zer0 through his lashes. “Touch me? Please?”

“Roll over for me and I’ll think about—” Before Zer0 can finish the second verse Rhys is on his back, hiking up his shirt with one trembling hand for easier access. Far from annoyed, Zer0 wraps his free hand around Rhys’ aching cock, pumping it in sync with the pressure inside him. It’s definitely still a little weird getting a four-fingered hand job, but the pressure on his cock feels so undeniably _human_ it doesn’t matter, sending a sick thrill up Rhys’ spine. Zer0 fucks him with the same clinical ferocity he applies to wiping out entire bandit camps, wringing pleasure out of every inch of his body until it’s almost too much; Rhys a stuttering mess beneath his hands.

“Do your soldiers know their CEO is a slut? So embarrassing.” Rhys has to bite his tongue to stop from moaning loud enough for the whole of Promethea to hear. He hides his face in the crook of his cybernetic elbow, his skin red-hot against the metal, sweat prickling across his hairline. “When I’m on missions do you throw yourself at them? Beg them to fuck you?”

“Thought about it,” Rhys grunts. Three of them on him at once, passing him around, their faces masked like Zer0’s, isn’t a half-bad fantasy. “Would be a lot less cryptic than yo—_ow._” He twitches as Zer0’s hand drops to cup his balls, squeezing a little too roughly. “Kidding, kidding. None of them c-could replace you. Their poetry is terrible.” 

His tone is sarcastic, but the sentiment is real. Zer0 is one of a kind, a force of nature, and they both know it. The fact that he’s knuckle deep inside _him_ right now is nothing short of fucking amazing. 

To prove it, Rhys wraps his legs around Zer0’s skinny waist, hauling him closer until his belt digs into his clenched thighs. Zer0 grunts in surprise, but he takes it in stride, one hand pistoning in-and-out of Rhys, the other pressing into the spot right beneath the head of his cock that has Rhys seeing stars. 

“Fuck, you’re so good, Zer0. So good. You’re actually the best, okay? You’re amazing.” He spits out whatever he’s thinking, semi-coherent as his body comes undone. He can see his reflection in Zer0’s mask: face pink, pupils blown to hell, his cybernetic fingers clenching divots into the desk beneath him. His entire being reduced to a shaking, desperate wreck, completely at the mercy of his very own ruthless corporate assassin.

His eyes roll up in his head, every muscle in his body tightening in release, body pumping liquid electricity instead of blood. Zer0 is saying something—another haiku, probably—but Rhys can’t make out the words, only the hitch in his voice, the sharp indrawn breath. It’s the sound he lives for. 

When he comes to, he’s empty, body slack across the desk. There’s four fingers trailing through the mess on his stomach in a way that’s almost possessive. 

Still shivering and utterly without thought, Rhys struggles up onto unsteady elbows and plants a small kiss on Zer0’s visor. Zer0 says nothing, motionless between his thighs, blush lines flashing warm against Rhys’ cheeks as he rests his helmet on Rhys’ damp forehead, sharing the moment.

“Thanks,” says Rhys, “I, uh, really needed that.”

“So it seems,” murmurs Zer0, and then the spell is broken and he’s straightening up, blush lines fading to black, wiping his fingers off brusquely on Rhys’ ruined shirt like it’s nothing. He offers Rhys a small nod before untangling their bodies, then turns and heads for the door. 

“W-wait, you’re going already?” Rhys tries to hide the disappointment in his voice. “You just got here.”

“And now I must leave. Maliwan grows arrogant. Let’s ruin their day.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Sounds good. Hey, up and at ‘em.” How Zer0 can remain a consummate professional after all that is beyond him. Rhys waves him off before collapsing back onto the desk, basking in the afterglow, his body light and hazy for what feels like the first time in aeons.

He won’t stay like this for too long, though. Just a few more minutes, and he’ll clean himself and get back to work; devise some genius strategy to take care of Katagawa once and for all; no rest for the wicked and all that. 

After all, Zer0 and him, they’ve got a company to save.

**Author's Note:**

> I beat Borderlands 3 and all I got was this stupid desire to SIN. 
> 
> As much as I would love to weigh in on the “what has Zer0 got under all that armour” discourse, I have to honour The Mystery(™). Sorry!


End file.
